


Alterlife

by notecard



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Brief Descriptions of Medical Procedures and Autopsies, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Mentions of Past Moira/Ana Relationship, Mercy 1st POV, Oral Sex, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Vaginal Fingering, Werewolves, awoo, being naked in the woods!, nonlinear timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notecard/pseuds/notecard
Summary: Angela believes Blackwatch’s new doctor may be hiding a dark and dangerous secret. Angela searches for answers, and she finds herself drawn closer and closer to the enigmatic Moira O’Deorain. When the truth of Moira’s past is revealed, Angela isn’t prepared for how she becomes ensnared in the supernatural and everlasting consequences.I love werewolves and nonlinear timelines. This story will hop around the events of Moira’s first month at Overwatch.





	Alterlife

< Saturday the 21st, 5:30 am >

“It’s obvious that we made a mistake,” Moira says as we stand in the thick forest. I grip my bare arms and shiver in the freezing morning mist.

“Obviously, but I’d at least feel better about everything if we weren’t naked in the woods.”

Moira smiles at me and shakes her head. “You’ll get used to this, Dr. Zeigler.” 

She turns and casually strolls away as if nothing had happened. I step around the deer lying between us and sigh as I follow her.

 

< Monday the 2nd, 11 am >

“Do you like the new doctor?” Lena asks me as we sit in the breakroom. I swallow a bitter gulp of coffee, grimacing at both the drink and the thought of her.

“She seems fine,” I lie. Lena hops up to sit on the counter next to the coffee maker.

“She’s working for Blackwatch’s division. Apparently Reyes was pretty set on her joining, but,” Lena laughs. “Well, I’m biased since I know she’s Emily’s aunt.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, but she’s actually really mysterious! Emily always jokes she’s probably a vampire or something.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I mumble into the coffee. Of course, an earnest belief in anything supernatural is completely unsubstantiated and impossible, but it’s hypothetically fitting to imagine the tall Irish woman as being a creature of the night, straight from a horror story. Dr. O’Deorain’s first impression yesterday was odd enough; I still can’t get that image of her out of my mind. 

Not to mention her formal introduction at Overwatch this morning was hardly redeeming. She simply seems too unnaturally intense. A small voice inside me chimes in and points out that Dr. O’Deorain is also unnaturally attractive, as well. 

As if reading my mind, Lena says in a singsong tone, “But she’s your type, isn’t she?”

“Very funny, Lena.”

“I caught you staring during the meeting today. Thinking about an office romance, maybe?” She laughs when I wave her off, but my face feels flushed.

I dump the rest of the coffee down the drain and return to work.

 

< Sunday the 1st, 6 am >

I run down the empty street, headphones blasting upbeat music as I jog in the early light. I ignore the soreness in my thighs and instead focus on moving to the beat of the music. The edge of the neighborhood feels slightly spooky in the morning mist and eerie emptiness. 

I take a turn, running away from the houses and following my normal jogging route near the perimeter of the woods on the outskirts of the city.

And I freeze in my tracks when I see someone in there. Someone in the woods. Someone naked.

I pause, despite every instinct telling me to keep going, to run away. But I’m frozen. 

It’s hard to miss the tall, pale figure as she walks a few meters away from me, moving easily through the dark trees. She similarly stops in her tracks when she sees me. We make the briefest eye contact before she turns on her heels and bounds deeper through the trees until she’s out of sight.

Everything happened in just a few seconds. It feels surreal. I blink slowly as I stare at the now empty forest, but there’s no trace of her. 

The last thing I expected to see was a nude woman covered in dirt and debris run into the foggy morning woods. Who was that? Her pale skin was blotched with brown hues and…and did I see red? Were those red splotches, too? Certainly not blood. Hopefully not. Was she hurt? 

I shake it off. There’s no way to know for sure now. She’s gone. “Weird,” I conclude under my breath as I pick up the speed. I try to shake it off as just a random stranger in the woods, but something about her was so strikingly handsome, too. She was gorgeous. Very odd.

Well, I’ll never see her again.

 

< Thursday the 12th, 10pm >

“Dr. Zeigler, you are in no condition to go to the lab right now,” Moira says with concern.

“Please get out of my way.”

I walk faster past her, feeling the unpleasant buzzing of inebriation in my limbs as I move. I hear her sigh and follow me. Our heels make crisp, echoing sounds as we walk down the empty corridor. 

My dress hugs my body too tightly, and I’m suddenly desperate for air. I pause and try to pull the zipper down, but it gets snagged on the fabric. My fingers are too shaky to work it out. I swear and glance back at Moira. 

She looks so frustratingly gorgeous, as usual. I have no idea where her suit jacket went. Perhaps she left it at the gala. She stands now in just her black stilettos, well-tailored pinstripe pants, and billowing white dress shirt. Her sleeves are rolled up, though, and her tie has been loosened. The atypical dishevelment makes my pulse quicken, and I bite my lip. 

Shit, I think glumly, I really overdid it. I slump back against the wall and rub my temples vigorously, as if that’d help exorcise the alcohol from my system. 

“I’m not going back to the gala,” I say to her, “so you can just leave me alone.”

“Please, I have no desire to return to that horrid ballroom, either.” She steps closer, and I hate that I can catch her cologne. 

“You always smell too woodsy for someone who practically lives in a laboratory,” I mumble. She laughs brightly. 

“I sometimes get outside, darling.”

“So why were you in the woods that Sunday morning? Before your first day at Overwatch? I saw you, and I know you saw me, so don’t pretend.”

She raises her eyebrows, mulling over her response for a beat. “I’m afraid I don’t really remember.”

“Fine, forget it.” I slip past her and continue walking. Of course, she follows. “Just go back to the party and act like you’re totally normal, even though I know you’re doing something awful to Commander Reyes. Probably turning him into a vampire, too.”

I said it in jest, but she says a surprisingly sincere “oh” in response that grabs my attention. I glance over my shoulder at her, but her blank expression breaks into bemusement as she laughs.

“You’re very, very close, but not quite right. I’m insulted you think I’m a vampire, though. They’re always a bit too rigid and unimaginative, in my experience.”

“You don’t really believe in all that mythological nonsense, do you?”

“Why not?”

“Please, be serious with me. Just tell me what’s going on with you and Gabe, and stop… stop lying to me.” I pause again and hold my pulsing head in my hands. Moira’s eyes soften.

“I’d never lie to you, but sometimes I am simply selective about what I share.”

“You’re so weird.” My lips feel like they’re off tempo as I talk. “And I’m too drunk.”

“I believe that’s accurate. I heard you outdrank the cowboy at the bar, which is impressive.” 

“You have huge hands.”

I stare at them as I stand unsteady on my feet. I can’t look away from those mismatched hands and forearms, one freckled and the other unnaturally scared. 

“What really happened to you, Moira?”

I doubt she’ll answer. She looks down at her arms, but despite the brief pause, she does reply. “A product of my hubris, I’m afraid.” She smiles sadly. “I flew too close to the sun and got rightfully burned, but that’s a story for another time. Maybe.”

A simplistic and instinctual desire springs up inside me. I don’t want her to be sad. My sluggish and delayed judgement barely catches me in time before I reach out for her. But I shouldn’t. She said we shouldn’t, but we haven’t touched each other since that night.

Embarrassment flushes my cheeks and as I turn away, the sheer vertigo and the alcohol work in cahoots and I feel my head spin and my body make crisp contact with something hard, probably the floor, as I pass out.

 

< Tuesday the 10th, 10 pm >

Despite my better judgement, I’m kissing Moira O’Deorain.

The kiss is slow. She barely moves as our lips make hesitant and soft contact. I wasn’t expecting her skin to feel this warm. I break away an inch and open my eyes. Even in the dim florescence of the lab, I can see her cheeks are flushed. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” she whispers. My nervous hands grip the lapel of her lab coat.

“I want this. If you don’t want this, then tell me and we’ll stop.”

“It’s not that at all, Dr. Zeigler,” she smiles wryly. “It’s just that- well, last week you made it very clear how you feel about me. I’m simply surprised.”

“Me too,” I admit. And I’m even more surprised when I lean back in and resume kissing her, this time with greater resolve. She matches my increased pace, kissing me with wonderful skill and surprising gentleness. 

She’s right, though. Last week, I was very frank about how I felt about her.

 

< Friday the 6th, 9 am >

“You’re impossible,” I say, shaking my head as I step back from the operating table. “You shouldn’t be doing this sort of work at Overwatch. Unethical, unwarranted, and simply disgusting. I didn’t want to judge too quickly, but maybe everyone is right. Maybe it was a mistake to hire you.”

“Have you been talking to McCree?” she laughs. With her gloved hands still covered in blood and her perfect red lips turned in a wry grin, it’s hard not to be terrified at the sight of her. Some blood from the autopsy she’s preforming has even splattered up onto her lab coat.

“I was familiar with your published research from before, and I most certainly disagree with your methodology now,” I continue undeterred. “You know I have access to medical files for all Overwatch members. You’ve been honestly cruel so far.”

She shrugs. “A matter of opinion, I believe. Certain approaches can be seen as efficiency or perhaps pragmatism, not cruelty.”

“Even if parts of Commander Reyes’ file are ‘confidential’ I can see him around base. He’s not right. He’s different.”

“Believe me, Dr. Zeigler. Gabriel is my friend. I want to help him, and let me remind you that he asked for my help. He knows that my particular methods are for the best, in the long run.”

My hands ball up into tense fists at my sides.

“Overwatch is supposed to save lives,” I say. “Not ruin them.”

“Ah, is that what you tell yourself when you fall asleep at night to justify building the technology they use for their weapons?” she says as she resumes working, casually removing organs and weighing them on the nearby scale. “Or do you have to tell yourself that when you’re out there on the battlefield? You’re certainly saving some lives, I suppose.”

I hold my tongue and simmer instead of pleasing her with a response. Moira glances up from her work and sighs.

“Don’t feel too distraught over all this. I don’t intend on threatening your position or treading over your own methodology. Overwatch still wants you to be in charge of their staff while they’re living and fighting. I only get access when they can no longer be revived,” she says with a disgusting level of cheer as she waves over the cadaver she’s working on. “The only research I’m doing is either after autopsies or, in limited cases, with expressed agreement from someone aware of my distinctive techniques.” 

“Ana was right about you,” I snap.

She raises her eyebrows and returns to work. “Oh, I hardly can wait to hear what my university ex-girlfriend thinks of me. Do tell.”

“She said to avoid you. That you used to be different but then you got sick with something evil.”

Moira rolls her eyes. “Creative phrasing, I’ll give her that. She loves to be enigmatic. Is that all? She usually complains about how I got the dogs after we called everything off, but it was mutually decided that she can keep her demonic cat and I’ll keep the pups.”

“She also said you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Moira’s hands still over the body. She mulls this over in a moment of silence, and then she nods.

“She’s right,” Moira says with an uncharacteristic softness. “I really am a monster.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s true. What if I told you something really did curse me?”

“I’d tell you to stop talking nonsense and stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” she says with a smirk. “But fine, I’ll tell you all my dark secrets some other time.”

I take a deep breath to cool the smoldering frustration inside me, and I avert my eyes to quell the unexpected part of me that is still completely infatuated with how horribly handsome she is when she smiles like that. 

“Stop joking around,” I say as I turn to leave. “Just leave me alone.”

“As you wish, Dr. Ziegler.”

 

< Friday the 20th, 6:50 pm >

She won’t stop calling me. I look at the cell phone as it hums impatiently on the passenger seat. I glance at the dashboard clock, at the sky, at the phone again, and at my shaking hands. She won’t quit until I answer, so I pick up.

“I’m fine,” I tell her as soon as I answer. “Don’t panic, please.”

“Don’t panic?” Moira repeats with a panicky edge. “Don’t panic that we both might potentially find ourselves dead, or worse, captured, after tonight because you’re too impossibly proud to listen to my advice?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything. Go on with your plans and leave me be.”

“I can’t let you go through it alone, Angela. Not the first time.”

“Nothing will happen tonight. I feel fine.”

She groans, and I can picture how she holds the bridge of her nose when she’s exasperated. “You don’t know that. You have no way to know if you’ll be fine until tonight, and you’re going to risk not only your life but the lives of everyone around you? What’s that one charming little mantra you love to quote at me? Something about ‘do no harm’?”

“I am not going to hurt anyone,” I state flatly, “because I’m fine. This is fine. We’re fine.”

“In less than an hour, I know I won’t be fine.”

“Then go back home and let me be.”

“Absolutely not,” she laughs tersely. “I’m finding you. Rather be safe than sorry, darling.”

“How surprisingly pragmatic of you.”

“Please, Angela, we are running out of time. Tell me where you are.”

I shake my head, looking around at the tunnel of trees on the lonely stretch of highway where I’m parked. She can’t be here. I can’t possibly face her, and there’s no way in hell I’m going back there to that godawful basement with her, because that would make all of this real, and it can’t be real. It is impossible. It is just not real.

The sun is nearing the horizon. I hang up. 

 

< Tuesday the 3rd, 5 pm >

I am flabbergasted. I have a hard time picturing Moira as a young university student, and I hardly can imagine her and Ana dating in college.

“You’re joking,” I laugh as I sit in Ana’s office. She smiles from the other side of her desk. 

“I know, but she actually used to be charming.”

“She’s still charming, maybe in a rather wicked sort of way.” 

Ana glances out of her office window. Afternoon light illuminates the room, and I have to squint in the brightness. 

“I know I called you in here about the London situation, but I also wanted to give you some advice, since you’ll be working with Moira the most as far as medical affairs go between our different divisions and ongoing operations. You heard that Gabe vouched for her, and he convinced Jack she’s a good hire.”

“But?” I ask, sensing the eminent turn. Ana looks up at me with an unfamiliar expression. I only ever see her completely self-assured or happily joking around with the troops to improve morale. Now, she looks almost scared. Almost.

“Moira has changed. I knew her before, and if I didn’t swear to keep her secrets, I wouldn’t be so cagey about all this, Angela. I apologize if this sounds cryptic.”

“It’s ok. I’m aware she, and by extension Blackwatch, have their secrets.”

“This happened before Blackwatch. Back when we were still together.” Ana leans in closer, her hands fold together on the desk. “All those years ago, Moira got sick with something, something evil and dark that she somehow keeps in check. I don’t know how she’s managed it this long, but I know she’s still sick with it. I know she’s still dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Shouldn’t we tell the other commanders about this condition of hers if it’s potentially a risk?” 

“She’s assured me it won’t interfere with her work here, but I still worry for you, Angela. So I’ll be blunt. Moira may seem inviting, but she’s dangerous to get close to. I just want to make sure you’re feeling ok. Luckily, I got out before I got hurt, and I don’t want you to go through the same things I did.” 

A beat of silence passes between us.

Ah. Hm. My heartbeat trips up when I realize it. It sounds like Ana is potentially giving me…romantic advice? 

I feel flushed with embarrassment. Even Lena caught me staring at Moira yesterday, so of course Ana noticed that I’m slightly infatuated with the idea of Moira O’Deorain. Just the idea, I remind myself. On a surface level, she’s gorgeous, but I feel no desire to go any further, I think. I recross my legs and fidget in my seat.

“I think I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I will admit Dr. O’Deorain is certainly striking, I mean, she’s…well, um, extremely unique. But despite that, I’m familiar with her previous work and her controversial ideals. We don’t have much in common, so I don’t think we’ll be getting very close, personally.”

Ana nods in understanding.

“Still, I want to try and give her the benefit of the doubt,” I continue tentatively. “I hate to judge someone before I truly get to know them.” 

“That’s a kind sentiment, but I’ll save you the trouble. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Almost literally.” Ana smiles as she gets up. “I won’t keep you any longer. I hope you don’t find me out of line for suggesting anything, Angela, but just be cautious around her.”

“Don’t worry. I hope to avoid her.” I already feel weird knowing Moira’s dated my boss, even if that was decades ago. Plus, no matter how attractive she may be, I have a feeling Moira might prove to be as cruel as rumor has had it. 

I also can’t shake the thought that I most certainly saw her run into the woods two days ago, completely nude, and covered in what I thought was dirt. 

The longer I let my imagination run wild, the longer I think that maybe she really was covered in blood too.

 

< Tuesday the 17th, 8 pm >

“You have to come down here every week?” I ask, looking around the concrete basement of her home. There is no furniture, and only one small light hangs in the middle of the room. Since it’s an unfinished basement, I can see the exposed wiring that snakes from the bulb along the roughly hewn walls. There are scattered streaks crisscrossing everywhere, too, like something sharp has been carving patterns all over the walls and ceiling.

“Yes, every Friday and Saturday night. It’s been absolute murder for my social life, as you’d imagine,” she quips sarcastically. I glance back at Moira, her hands in her trouser pockets. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be with the lunar cycle? According to all those legends?”

“Yes, at the beginning, the changes were aligned with the week surrounding the full moon, but I wanted more control. I was able to figure out some modifications to my own biology that allow me to schedule the changes, to some degree. Unfortunately eliminating them entirely has proven to be impossible.”

“You’ve tested on yourself?”

She smirks. “I don’t know of any other researchers doing this line of work.”

I look beyond her to the heavy, industrial-strength door we came through. 

“And that door has no knob on the inside?”

“It’s set to lock and unlock automatically, but there’s also this,” she pauses and walks past me. She wiggles one of the cement blocks in the bottom corner of the room. She pulls out the small brick and turns it towards me. The inside is hollowed out, and a small remote sits inside. “If something goes wrong, I can override the system from here. Only normally dexterous human hands can get this brick out, if you understand.” 

“Does it hurt?”

“To get the stone out? It can ruin my nails but-,”

“No, the actual nighttime part,” I correct quietly. She blinks, her two-toned eyes staring unnervingly into mine. 

“Would you believe I’ve never had to explain any of this to anyone before?”

“I believe that. I doubt you throw weekend parties down here.”

She smirks, though it quickly deflates. “Every bit of this curse has been completely secret for years. Only Ana knows some details, but not even the specifics,” she says as she puts the stone back and stands up, brushing dust off her knees. “But I should explain everything to you, in case you have to take up the ritual-”

“I won’t. I feel fine.”

I say it automatically, but I know I sound too defensive. I know I’m not fine. But I must be fine. I have to be fine. I am fine.

She takes a long, shaking inhale. “Right. I hope so. God, I hope so.”

“Let’s talk about it upstairs.” Maybe we can go back to her bed. I’d like that a lot. There’s a powerful need to get her naked again that I am having trouble ignoring. I feel my body flush with heady warmth.

“I’m so sorry, again, Angela.”

“Like I said before, I don’t blame you for anything, so please don’t apologize.” I walk up, grab her hands, and press fast kisses on the back of each hand. Despite the rest of her feeling warm like a stove, the scarred hand always feels icy cold. “Let’s talk in your bedroom.”

“Oh, really?” she smiles. “We won’t do the kind of talking we need to do there.”

“Then let’s not talk,” I say. I’ve gotten used to how she leans down to kiss me, and I plan on not letting these lips do any serious talking at all, so help me.

We aren’t talking about it because it isn’t a problem. Because I’m still holding onto the desperate belief everything will be fine.

My back still aches, though. I ignore it as she leads me up the stairs, out of that basement.

 

< Saturday the 14th, 7 am >

I get back to my apartment from my jog, feeling like absolute hell. I shouldn’t have forced myself out when I still feel horribly sore and weird after last night.

I peel off my sweaty clothes in the hallway as I walk to the shower. I toss everything in a pile on the bathroom floor, and I glance up at my reflection in the mirror. 

I can’t tell what’s wrong with my vision, but everything is uncomfortably clear. So clear that I can notice every small bead of sweat slipping down my face and every stray hair that sticks to my sweaty skin. The level of detail is incredible everywhere, not just in the mirror but all around me. And some new feeling swirls inside my body. Something unusual and hot inside me and around me and all over.

I quickly turn the shower on as hot as it can go and step inside. I know I should feel more pain than I do, but compared to the excruciating spasms I was experiencing last night, the watery burn feels like nothing.

“Figure it out,” I whisper to myself. Diagnosing and curing ailments is my job, even though I’m usually not diagnosing myself. What could possibly be wrong? What are the symptoms? Some shaking and nervousness? Well, that’s not atypical for me with my anxiety, but that’s been a thing since college and I usually have it under control. 

But the agonizing muscle spasms last night? That could be a number of different things, and yet, after what felt like the worst night of pain I have ever experienced, there was a sudden adrenaline rush this morning. It’s like the tide of pain suddenly shifted, and I rode out the new wave of stamina as I launched myself on the hardest and fastest run I’ve ever had. Now I’m here, feeling weirdly nebulous but not dying. Not bad enough to go to the hospital. Not bad enough to call and worry her, either.

The sudden energy and weird vitality throws my normal calculous out the window. I mentally run through the laundry list of possibilities, but I have to eliminate all conceivable conditions and ailments as I keep coming up with contradictory symptoms. 

Something is definitely wrong with me. I know my body, but I can’t pin down what exactly happened. 

And the one explanation I have is something I can’t believe. The implications of our conversation yesterday…everything she said and everything I saw…it’s all just impossible.

I feel heat pool in my stomach as I recall what we did together yesterday. Despite the lingering pain, there’s a new tension between my legs. I bite my lip and try to shake it off.

We had incredible sex in the lab. I wasn’t immediately alarmed when she accidently left deep scratches along my back, especially since she was handling me so cautiously. I enjoy some roughness, accidents happen, and I didn’t mind. 

But something went wrong. For a moment, it’s like her hands were becoming inhuman. Something was causing her body to change. I can’t pretend I didn’t see that, and I can’t pretend I didn’t witness what she did to temporarily reverse the changes. The way she brought out some kind of antidote, even though she noted it could only briefly postpone the change for later that night, a change I still can’t accept is real. 

And her reaction. Nothing was more disconcerting than Moira’s reaction. The things she told me afterwards, the answers I had wanted for weeks, were not what I was expecting at all.

My hands nervously reach behind my back, feeling the twin columns of scratches that streak along my shoulder blades. Despite the burning water, they still feel icy cold. 

What she told me yesterday can’t be real. It’s impossible. It just isn’t possible.

 

< Friday the 13th, 7:35pm >

“Let me know if you feel any different in the next few days,” she says, standing over me as I sit on the operating table. She places the syringes on the metal tray and tapes a cotton ball and bandage over the place where she drew blood from the crook of my arm.

“Moira, this is quite an overreaction. We’re both adults. If you have a condition I may have contracted, then tell me.”

“It’s not something you’ve ever encountered before. It’s not even a recognized medical condition.”

“I can guess that much, judging from what you said at your place after the gala.”

She doesn’t say anything. I turn to her and watch as she makes quick motions to clean up the equipment. “I’m not mad this happened, Moira. I’m only mad you’re leaving me in the dark.”

She doesn’t answer. I feel a frustrated rush and grab her arm to get her to stop.

“You owe me an explanation,” I say sternly, “Or else I’ll assume something terrible or something wrong. What are you worried about?”

She stares at my hand on her arm. “Forgive me for thinking this,” she says quietly, lips barely moving as she speaks, “but if I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

She takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her still unkempt hair. I readjust on the hospital chair, feeling my bare thighs stick to the cheap material. The cold air pierces through the lab coat covering my naked body. She stands next to me, dressed in only her boxers and her black bra. Under normal circumstances, I’d find the sight of us comical and slightly sensual - two doctors practicing medicine right after banging, still in a state of undress in the middle of the lab. 

But Moira looks terrified. More terrified than I’ve ever seen her. I didn’t know her face could ever look so completely and horribly stricken with fear. Worse, her eyes are glossy. I don’t know how close she is to that precipice of tears, but she looks inches away from losing it.

“God, Angela,” she says, voice breaking. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I’ve ruined your life.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Please, just tell me. What’s really wrong with you? What-,” I pause, feeling like I already know the answer before I ask it. “What are you, Moira?”

 

< Thursday the 12th, 11:50 pm >

I wake up in bed. My head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton balls as I prop myself up on my elbows and get my bearings. Sadly, I still feel a little drunk from the gala, and the clock on the nightstand reads close to midnight. 

I sit up fully, and I suddenly realize I’m not in my bedroom. I’m alone on a large bed in a dark and unfamiliar room.

I fumble to turn on the lamp beside me, nearly knocking over a full glass of water that sits next to it. The soft glow illuminates the simple space. The first thing I notice is a dog sleeping on a large plush bed in the corner. The dog’s tail thumps on the ground when she must’ve noticed I woke up. Adorable, but unexpected.

I’m also still in my evening dress, but a spare t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts have been laid at the foot of the bed. I reach over for them. When I hold up the shirt, I recognize the university logo on the front. 

The pieces mentally click into place as I look around. The open wardrobe has suits and ties I recognize, the desk is meticulously organized, and there are stacks of novels and larger stacks of work related documents.

Once I finish changing into the t-shirt and shorts, I peer outside the bedroom door. There’s a short hallway with a bathroom directly opposite the bedroom. Further down, the dark hall is lit by the fluctuating glow of what has to be a television. I can hear the program, but I can’t make out what is being said or if she’s out there alone.

I slip into the bathroom quietly, unprepared for any human interaction just yet. Embarrassment melds in my chest, hot and heavy when I realize the last thing I can remember is passing out in the corridor when we left the party. Somehow, Moira got us both back to her house and I was out cold the whole time. 

I glance at myself in the mirror. I look rough. Yikes. I run my fingers through my hair to try and smooth it out. After wiping smudged makeup from under my eyes and taking care of myself as best as possible, I take a deep breath and walk down the hallway to the living room.

It turns out Moira isn’t alone. There is another dog sleeping on the floor near the sofa. Moira lays sprawled out on the sofa, completely and utterly asleep.

Moira doesn’t seem like the type to get a lot of sleep. She is constantly at work, constantly in the lab, constantly imbibing coffee as if her life depends on it. I’ve never seen her rest for a moment, but now she looks so wonderfully peaceful. Her face, for once, is devoid of tension. 

I carefully sit down on the reclining chair nearby, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The TV buzzes softly with some competitive cooking show. Next to the TV, there is a small table with a terrarium on top. Inside the glass tank, a tarantula sits on a little mossy log. I glance around the house to check for more unexpected critters, and indeed there’s another glass tank beyond the living room, closer to the kitchen, but I can’t tell from here what animal is inside.

The space is actually…cozy. There’s more life here than I expected. The open-concept kitchen-living room is dark now since the only light is coming from the television and the cracked bedroom door. But judging from the several tall windows, it must be bright in here during the day. Some items are still half-unpacked in cardboard moving boxes, but there’s a clear effort of cleaning and organizing around the house.

Moira stirs on the sofa. I freeze, but she doesn’t wake. The dog from the bedroom walks out and joins us, spooning with the other dog that seems to be a perfect copy of it. I jokingly wonder if they are clones. It wouldn’t surprise me.

What does surprise me is that Moira enjoys watching reality television shows. On the TV screen, two teams of bakers are racing to assemble a Halloween themed cake before the clock runs out. I lean back in the plush armchair and let myself zone out as I watch. I don’t really want to go back to the bedroom and be alone. I’m used to being alone in my apartment, but there’s something nice about being next to Moira and all these animals. Sleep tugs at the edge of my consciousness, but I jump when I hear her voice.

“They always play reruns this late at night,” she says. I look over, and she is still lying comfortably across the sofa. “Do you want a spoiler for this episode? In the end, both cakes end up tying for first place. How sweet.” 

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She sits up and shakes her head. I notice she’s also changed out of her eveningwear into something more comfortable. “Also, I’ve never seen you in a sweatshirt or shorts,” I note.

“Surprisingly I don’t dress exclusively in lab coats and suits.”

“You had me fooled.”

She laughs. She’s adorably groggy. It’s like seeing the behind the scenes of the Moira O’Deorain show. She taps the sofa cushions beside her, and the two dogs hop up to sit with her. One pup places her head in Moira’s lap, and she lovingly pets their heads.

“I wasn’t sure if you’re okay with pets,” she says, “but they are very friendly.”

“They’re adorable. The smaller one was in the bedroom with me earlier. I’m guessing you’re a dog person?”

Moira gives me an odd grin. “Yes, actually. I am.”

“Also,” I pause, pulling my knees up on the chair. “Thank you so much for taking care of me. I am so sorry I was a mess after the party.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I apologize, as well. I wasn’t sure what to do with you since you insisted on not going back to your apartment.”

“What.”

“In the cab? You woke up for a moment while we were driving back, but you were very adamant about not going home alone.” I wrack my brain, feeling faint traces of recollections but nothing concrete. Shit. “But are you feeling better? I have some medicine for headaches and hangovers.”

“I’m feeling less than stellar now, mostly because I don’t really remember our conversation in the taxi.”

“You didn’t talk about anything scandalous,” she says with a smirk. “But you were rather insistent about this vampire theory of yours. Quite charming. You had lots of strong evidence and tried to convince the cab driver, as well.”

I cover my face with my hands and groan. Thanks drunk Angela. Moira laughs in good humor. 

I look up at her when I hear her mute the TV. There’s a quizzical look on her face as she sets the remote down.

“You said one thing earlier tonight that I’d like to address, if I may.”

“Of course,” I reply.

“I know we’ve had our disagreements,” she says, hands resting gently back on the dogs. “But I promise you, I have never lied to you and I never will.”

“Will you be honest with me now?” 

“Of course.” 

“Why were you really in the woods that Sunday morning?” 

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t remember how I got there. Yes, I remember seeing you on your jog, but I was too petrified to do anything but dash off. I was supposed to be somewhere else. However, I made a mistake and…wandered out there.” There’s no hint of a joke or even sarcasm as she speaks, and she looks at me with a blunt earnestness. I nod.

“Is it because of your condition? The thing Ana alluded to?”

“Yes.”

“Can I guess it’s not somnambulism?”

She scoffs with a soft, wry grin. “No, I don’t sleep walk. Although apparently when I was a child, it happened occasionally.”

I let my hands rest on my knees, staring at nothing as I think of what to say.

“I…I never want you to feel pressure to tell me anything. It’s your personal life and your private affairs. I won’t sit here and make you tell me your secrets.”

“But?” she smiles.

“But,” I smile back, “just know I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“That’s why you’re an excellent doctor. You sincerely care about everyone you meet,” she says with a sigh. “At first I found it exhausting. I thought you were rather impossible.”

“And now? What do you think of me? And be honest.”

“Now I think I enjoy your company quite a bit, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela.”

She regards me warmly. “Angela.”

A comfortable moment passes between us. “Well, while we’re being so forthright, I’ll tell you another truth,” Moira says. “Even though I don’t feel completely prepared to divulge the full extent of my condition, I will tell you it’s nothing you have to worry about. I’ve dealt with it for years, and I will deal with it for life. It was my fault it even happened, so I don’t feel too upset about it anymore.” 

“I’m sorry it happened, though.”

She taps her scared right hand and shrugs. “I was young. I messed with a DNA sample I didn’t understand, and I got cursed. My repeated attempts to mitigate its side-effects have been consistently fruitless, despite my particularly dogged attempts.” 

“Are you in pain?”

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion. “Hm, well, not all the time.”

“Can I help in any way?”

“No, but I appreciate your ability to be patient with me.” 

“There’s no rush. You never have to tell me, unless it’s contagious. We do share a lab space.”

She lets out a terse laugh and shakes her head. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

We sit in silence again. She looks off out of one of the dark windows. My eyes wander down her lithe frame, seeing how the scattered freckles run all along her thighs and calves. My heartbeat picks up as I take in the sight of her.

“Moira,” I say. She looks over. “Will you be honest with me about one more thing?”

“Certainly.”

“Last Tuesday in the office, did you enjoy kissing me?” I wish I could sound more suave or composed when I say it, but my voice comes out too small. Too fragile. 

Moira doesn’t respond right away. She gives the dogs small pats as she stands up from them. She walks over to me and leans against the armrest of my chair.

“Yes, I enjoyed it very much.” 

“Well, that’s good. I did, too. I enjoyed it a lot, but…but you said we shouldn’t do it again?”

I can’t read her expression. “Angela, I would love to, but I don’t know if it’s entirely safe.”

“Since when do you care about safety?” I joke. She gives a wan half-smile.

“I might make flippant remarks about my own safety, but not with others. Not with people I care about.”

Whatever she’s mulling over in her head is out of my grasp. I don’t understand what makes her feel tied up and held back, but that doesn’t stop me from reaching out for her. I hold one of her hands. Her long fingers link with mine.

“Don’t worry about me, Moira. Believe me, I want this. I want to get to know you. I want to keep going.” I rub my thumb against her hand, feeling the smoothness of her skin. “I’ll be honest. These past few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. Very distracting.”

She laughs. “I was in a similar predicament. We would truly be awful to each other’s productivity if we continued on like this.”

“We simply couldn’t get anything done,” I say as she leans closer. I put my hand on her cheek, still as shocked as before at her incredible warmth that smolders under my fingertips. 

“If you want to try this, Angela, we can try, but I am not a perfect human.”

“Neither am I.”

“You’re more human than I am.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” I say as I lean up to her lips and we finally kiss again. The nervous energy from the first time a few days ago is gone. I’m not sure if it’s the sluggishness of sleep or the lingering alcohol, but this time the kiss is languid and serene and effortless. I don’t want to break away, but she pulls back. 

“You should get some sleep. Think everything over.”

“Can you sleep next to me? Your room is lonely.”

“You’re still quite inebriated, Angela. You need to get some decent rest.” She laughs as I stand up and lead her back to the bed anyway.

“I want someone to spoon with.” She obliges, being a very tall, big spoon to my much littler spoon. The rush of being near her like this, of being surrounded by her presence, is short lived because sleep sneaks up on me. Almost as soon as I hit the pillow, I’m asleep.

 

< Tuesday the 10th, 9:45 pm >

I walk into the empty lab, thankful to finally be alone. I shrug off the various accoutrements from work and hang up my white coat with slow and sluggish movements. I’m exhausted. Granted, I could’ve been busier. Some of my patients have been switched over to Moira’s care, if that’s an accurate word for it. At first I was excited about Moira arriving last week to perhaps ease some of the workload, though having the added anxiety of seeing how she handles her cases is no better. 

I slip into my office chair, letting my momentum spin me in tight circles. The walls swirl into impressionistic, dizzy colors. I let my head fall back.

I don’t like the way the image of her face or the sound of her voice lingers in my thoughts like an aftertaste. Or maybe I don’t mind it. I don’t know anymore. There’s a selfish, base part of me that enjoys conjuring up the memory of her naked in the woods from that first day. The prudish side of me gasps in repulsion and reminds me of her numeral ethical shortcomings that should invalidate her as an erotic interest. 

No luck. The former wins, as usual. I glance at the clock. It’s somewhat late. I have a report I should finish. Instead, I put my heels to the floor and give myself some more speed as I spin in the office chair. I close my eyes and picture her tall, naked frame surrounded by the trees and brush.

Shit, Angela. 

She’s out of the office today. No one is scheduled to see me. My office desk is pushed back far enough in the lab, so no one could sneak up on me if they walked inside.

I let my fingers slip under my shirt, feeling the soft skin around my hips. Up higher, past the firm wire of my bra. I tentatively squeeze and feel my nipples harden between my fingertips.

Inappropriate. Especially wishing it was her hands on me instead. Why can’t I let this go? What is it about her that feels inescapable? All around me? And despite my best efforts to eradicate it, there’s deeply rooted part of me that enjoys the animosity, the incongruity. 

I should stop. My hands impatiently linger around my waist, waiting for my head and heart to get themselves together and commit. Unfortunately, there’s no more time to wallow in my emotions alone. I hear the lab door slide open.

Of course she walks in. Of course I snap to attention like prey spotted. She smiles as she walks closer.

“Did I interrupt something?” she says with that infuriating grin. I shake my head, pushing my hair behind my ears to give my nervous hands something to do.

“I just got back from the hospital wing. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s a busy week for us all,” she says as she unbuttons her lab coat. My body still feels coiled, and I find the whole sight of her unfairly sensual right now. Someone shouldn’t move so stately doing such mundane tasks.

“Are you heading home soon?” I ask.

“No, I’ll be getting ahead of some work tonight, since on Fridays I leave early.”

I bite my lip as she walks toward her own private office.

“Moira,” I say without a plan for what follows. She pauses, regarding me coolly.

“Dr. Zeigler, if you’d like to pick up our engrossing discussion from this morning about the ramifications of experimental practices for Commander Reyes, I have to request that we reschedule.”

“No, I want to ask you something else. Maybe something personal.”

“Certainly,” she says as she walks into her own office. I groan, getting up to follow her into her space. She sits behind the desk and ushers me to the chair opposite. I instead lean on the edge of her desk, closer, clearly in her personal circle that she maintains so rigidly.

Something in her two-toned eyes shifts as she looks me over. “How can I help you, Dr. Zeigler?”

“I’d like to avoid feeling like I’m working in a land-mine in this lab from now on,” I say. “I want to clear the air. I can’t handle the long silences and the unbearable tension and the arbitrary arguments.”

“I feel the same way. And I have noticed you’ve been on edge recently.”

“It’s true. It’s just because I can’t- I just can’t,” I shake my head. “I can’t figure you out.”

She takes a deep breath. “I keep my personal life separate from work, if that’s what you’re asking about.”

“Do you keep it fully separate?”

“Yes. Entirely.”

“So if we agree we’re doing something in the private sphere,” I say, scooting closer. Inside, the panic bells are ringing; alarming me there will be no going back. There’s no save point. This is irrevocable. 

And another part is desperate for that release, to finally set events in motion, even if I don’t know where they’ll take me.

“If we do something outside of work, can we keep it private?” I ask her.

She searches my face. Whatever she sees, she doesn’t protest when I walk closer, allowing my body to stand directly in front of her. I lean down, holding onto the arms of her chair. She sits rigidly before me, statuesque in her motionlessness.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret, Dr. Zeigler.”

“I know what I want. Do you?”

“From the moment I met you, yes.”

I can’t stand the anticipation a moment longer. I move to straddle her in her chair, sitting on her lap and letting my fingers slip into her hair. Our lips meet in an overwhelming rush. 

 

< Friday the 13th, 7 pm >

I’m coming hard in her mouth. I grip her head between my legs, slipping my hands through her hair, crying her name as I shudder into a wonderful release. I feel blissfully overstimulated, and I fall backwards. My back makes soft contact with my office desk where I sit. I swear as I exhale, savoring the feeling of her palms running up my sweaty thighs.

Moira rises from kneeling between my thighs, planting kisses all along my hips, ribs and chest. I hum, leaning up to kiss her lips.

“And you said you haven’t done that in a while,” I joke. She scoffs lightly.

“I take it everything was satisfactory?”

“Everything except your dirty talk, yes. You’re adorably clinical,” I laugh as she kisses hard on my neck. I grip her back when she momentarily threatens to bite. “Please. You can be rough with me, Moira.”

“I won’t risk hurting you, darling.” She stands, still leaning over me. I hold her hips, sensing a shift in her mood. 

“Don’t leave,” I say. We had only just started. In fact, I embarrassingly didn’t last very long. We both came into the office after a hectic day packed with meetings and appointments. We talked a bit about the gala night, and it was agreed with no wasted time that we were very much on the same page. We both quickly disrobed in the empty lab, and she skillfully pushed me over the edge with those lips of hers in a matter of minutes.

“I’m afraid tonight is a bit busy for me,” she says, scanning the room. “What time is it? Who designed a lab with no visible clocks? Or windows, for that matter?”

“What could be more important than this?” I ask playfully. I run my hands up her chest, pausing to squeeze her breasts. She leans into me. Her hips rest perfectly between my thighs as she stands and I sit on the edge of the desk. “You were so wonderful, and I haven’t gotten a chance to return the favor.”

“Another time,” she says apologetically in my ear, kissing me lightly. “If I don’t get going soon, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“If you’re leaving because of Blackwatch, I will personally march into Commander Reyes office.”

“And tell him what? To stop scheduling missions when we’re fucking?”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Well, it’s not related Blackwatch. I have some personal affairs I need to attend to tonight.”

I still can’t take my hands off her. My fingers slip lower to run along her tapered waist and sharp hipbones. The more I trace inwards, further down, closer between her thighs, the more her hands squeeze my back with an enthralling pressure.

“Can I do this?” I ask softly. She sighs.

“I want to so badly, but there isn’t time. I’m already pushing it incredibly close.”

“I’ll be quick,” I smile. She shudders when I finally make a quick sweep between her lips with my fingers. “But of course, I won’t ever pressure you. If you want to stop, then of course we’ll stop-,”

In a swift motion, she kisses me intensely. I moan into her lips, and I feel my own body coil with need. 

“Yes, for a minute, yes,” she says. “And I’m sorry. After tonight, I’m yours any day.”

“Are you sure? We can stop.”

“No, I need this,” she says, voice husky and raw. “I need you, Angela.”

“We’ll be quick, so you aren’t too late to wherever you need to go,” I say with a smile. While part of me was hoping to get more creative (since there is a strap-on I have tucked away in the back closet) there is a clear edge in her voice. But whatever is worrying her, she still is thankfully in my arms. For that, I am grateful. And I can be quick. 

I slip my fingers between her, rubbing her clit with a fast pressure. Her hips work forward into me, hands clasping my back. Her head falls on my shoulder, and I kiss and suck at her skin. I want her to fall apart. Just hearing that elegant voice of hers crack as she says my name in a sporadic litany of curses and pleas is making my heart throb with a brilliant urgency like never before. 

I work my fingers inside, thrusting hard, wishing there was more time to make her truly break. There is an unexpected aggressiveness with her I savor. I pause my motions for a beat, and her body shivers.

“Angela, oh God.”

“When I get you alone next time, I’d like to get my mouth here,” I say, resuming fast circles on her clit. “Or I’d love to pin you under me as I fuck you. Would you like that?”

“God, yes, but I-” She shudders. Her body temperature is rising dramatically. It almost hurts to feel her skin on mine, like standing in direct and burning sunlight. “Oh, God, it’s too soon. It can’t be…” but whatever she was going to say is lost in a deep, almost animalistic groan.

“Do you want me to go slower?” She swears as I pick up the speed instead. Her hands clasp my back, and her chest rises and falls with intense breaths. 

“Angela, I think I’m…oh, fuck.”

“Moira?”

And just when I think she is hitting the edge, she buckles over in pain. Her nails dig into me and leave quick, cutting streaks down my shoulder blades.

It hurts, yes, but I can’t be bothered about it. I can’t focus on anything else but her body as she pulls away from me. Something is wrong with her body. Her hands look wrong. Elongated and too sharp. Inhuman.

“Oh,” is all I can manage to say. With an almost inhuman speed, she goes back to her office. I get up and follow on her trail. As I stand in the doorway, I see Moira kneeling on the floor, digging through a black case I’ve never seen before. And before I can stop her, she jabs a syringe full of something into her thigh.

“Oh my God, Moira,” I say, crouching beside her. “Are you having some kind of allergic reaction?”

Normally she would’ve said something, anything. But for a moment she sits completely petrified and silent as we both watch her hands shift and shake back to their normal shape.

“That should delay it for an hour. God, it shouldn’t have started happening so soon,” she says, looking up at me. “Are you hurt?”

“I feel fine.” She doesn’t look convinced. With a purposefulness I recognize, she guides me up, spins me around, and analyzes my back. Admittedly, I can feel there are some rough scratches, but they are oddly numb even though I know they should sting a little. But with the same practiced focus that gets summoned up in emergency rooms and battlefields, Moira leads me back to the lab’s main space to one of the operating tables.

“We need to heal these, and I’ll take a blood sample to test.”

“Test for what?”

She doesn’t say. I look at her hands, remembering how, for a moment, they didn’t look like hands at all. They were claws. 

 

< Thursday the 19th, 11 pm >

“Incredible,” I say, rubbing her bare shoulders as we lay amidst the twisted tangle of her bedsheets. She hums as my hands trail up her neck and card through her messy hair. I lean down closer, planting small kisses along her spine. Her facedown body shivers slightly as I linger near the nape of her neck, letting my hot breath fall on her skin. 

“Angela,” she says softly as I get up and move over her. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine. More than fine, I promise.” I straddle her waist. With her back facing up towards me, I can’t read her expression, but I can hear the nervousness in her voice.

“Tomorrow we’ll know for sure.”

“Tomorrow we’ll know nothing is wrong. I feel completely normal.”

My fingers dig in and massage her tense shoulder muscles. Even though we both climaxed just minutes ago, I still feel so hot and heady. All day today, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to be here, on top of her. The electricity between us was making me antsy in every meeting and every appointment, and even now I feel almost insatiable.

“Is this ok?” I ask as I kneed her body. She nods. I let myself use a bit more pressure, and I feel my heartbeat spike when she softly groans.

“Moira,” I whisper, savoring the feeling of her body and the sound of her name. “You’re so incredible.” 

“Angela, I want you, but-,” she pauses as I let my hips roll forward onto her back. “You know this is part of it, right? Feeling an increase in…sexual yearning. Feeling fewer inhibitions. These are signs of it.”

“We both had long days at work, and I love sex. I don’t think this is abnormal,” I joke lightly. “I’m also possibly a bit hornier because I’m young, if you remember what that’s like.”

She laughs brightly. “Oh, very funny. Forgive me for being knackered trying to keep up with you.”

“Are you really tired?” I ask, slipping my hands down her back and letting my fingers drift to draw invisible constellations between her freckles. “Of course we can stop, if you want.”

She makes a move to turn around. I let her flip over under me. When she’s face up with her hips below my thighs, I can see her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips. Her mismatched eyes search mine.

“Like I said earlier, Thursday is when there’s a noticeable difference in attitude and energy. It’s the building of the storm, so to speak.” Her hands rest on my bare hips. “So no, I’m not tired at all, darling. I want you so much. I almost can’t stand it.”

I breathe in deep as her fingers drift closer inwards, trailing along my hipbones. I push into her, feeling wet and needy. I bite my lip as she drags her right hand between my thighs. The temperature difference is exhilarating. Her colder hand on my hot skin. I feel wound up so tight, ready for us to dive back into it together, desperate for release, desperate to make her come again, desperate to hear the way her voice breaks as she cries my name, but she stops. Her fingers move back to rest on my hips instead of slipping inside like I had hoped.

“Friday and Saturday the absolute worst, though,” she says. I readjust on top of her, uneasy with pent up energy. “The tension, the buildup, the sheer need of it all. At times it feels almost unbearable. I’ve gotten used to dealing with the side-effects, but after the sun goes down, there’s no controlling anything anymore. You’ll have to come here before dusk, maybe around six to be safe. If you want I can drive you here after work.”

“Maybe.”

“Angela, please.” She sits up, and I slide off her like a dejected child. I hate to seem so petulant, but this topic of conversation exactly the last thing I want to talk about. “Promise me you will come tomorrow,” she says as she holds my hands.

“I just don’t think it’s necessary. I don’t want to get in your way, and nothing will happen with me anyway.”

“God, I hope so. I hope nothing happens, but I rather we be prepared. If you’re in the clear and no change happens, you can simply shut me in downstairs and we’ll move on from this.”

She leans in closer. Her hands move to my back, feeling along my shoulder blades and lightly tracing the thin lines of scars.

“I’m so sorry.”

“For the last time,” I smile, pulling her in closer. I kiss her nose and she blushes so adorably. “Moira, don’t apologize.”

“I’m terrified, Angela.” There’s none of the familiar jovial tone, the cocky warmth. I hold her close and she hugs me tightly. “Promise me you’ll come tomorrow.”

“We’re going to get through this.”

“Just promise me we’ll do it together.”

“I promise.”

 

< Friday the 20th, 7:20 pm >

“I guess promises mean nothing to you,” Moira says flippantly, tossing her backpack on the floor of the forest. She crosses her arms and stares at me.

“Technically I promised we’d do it together, but I didn’t necessarily specify the location.”

Her eyes go wide. The fuse igniting her ire is clearly lit. She throws up her hands. “I built a basement specifically for this! We made a plan! I’ve been dealing with this for decades, and yet you decide to wing it by yourself!”

“There’s still time for you to drive home.”

“Look at the sun, Angela, and tell me there’s time. No, there isn’t. The change is happening in ten minutes if we’re lucky. So we’re doing this here in the woods, like animals.”

I can’t help but giggle. “Well, definitely like animals.” She shakes her head and begins unbuttoning her shirt. 

“You’re getting undressed?”

“I can’t afford to rip through my clothing every time, Dr. Zeigler.”

“Oh no,” I start, similarly pissed. “Do not.”

“What? Oh, you don’t want me calling you that? Whatever do you mean? You’re the medical doctor here, and I’m respecting that. We are deferring to your judgement, Dr. Zeigler. Plus, you said it yourself. I’m more a ‘research doctor’ who is unfit to take care of people. So happy we followed your plan for this situation instead of mine. What do I know about a condition I’ve dealt with for years?” She tosses her shirt on top of the backpack. She stands arms akimbo in just her black bra and dark trousers. “Better yet, let’s just not talk, since you seem completely opposed to the idea of clear and trusting communication.”

“Oh, please. Don’t be rude.”

She says something that I assume is probably rude in Gaelic. 

She starts taking off the rest of her clothes. I feel my body tense oddly. There’s something hard pulsing in my chest, something that doesn’t feel good. It’s almost like a second heartbeat. I nervously fidget with my watch, glancing up at the reddening sky.

“I’d take that off, unless you want the watchband resized.”

“I’m sorry.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head as she folds her trousers. 

“Moira, look at me. I’m sorry.”

“The closer it is to sunset, the more we may say things we don’t mean. Sensing the change happening? I thought you were feeling normal, Dr. Zeigler.”

“It you’re going to be awful, then fine.” I pull off my turtleneck sweater in a huff. 

As I kick off my own pants, I notice she’s not made a snide remark in a few minutes. I glance up at her.

She’s naked. Completely stark naked in the woods. She looks gorgeous, but her striking face is still tense. Her toned arms are crossed over her chest. Her painted nails dig into her shoulders so hard, I’m worried she’ll break skin.

“You’ve changed out in the woods before, right?” I ask her. “That’s when I saw you for the first time that Sunday morning. After a change?”

“Yes, but that was an accident. Somehow the basement door didn’t fully lock. I had just moved in that week, I wasn’t used to the system entirely, and I escaped after the change. But it could’ve been much worse. I didn’t see any reports of anything horrible after it happened. God, I haven’t had an accident like that in over fifteen years.” Her voice sounds like it’s coming from a million miles away, suddenly devoid of color and warmth. “Do you know how terrifying it is to wake up from a nightmare and not know where you are? To find yourself covered in blood and unsure where it came from? Who you hurt?”

I freeze. She looks away from me.

“Before I was able to make a place for myself, back when I was first figuring this out alone, I had to come out in woods like this. Every time, I’d just stand there at sunset and pray. I never felt like begging the cosmos for help before, not until I realized I was asking for the impossible.”

I’m speechless. I try to move my lips to speak but I can’t say anything.

“This is my fault,” Moira continues. “Maybe I undersold how bad it’s going to feel, or maybe I wasn’t clear on how little control you’ll have. Maybe I was just as in denial as you were, and I was unable to convince myself I really did ruin another person’s life this way. I so desperately wanted you to be right, Angela. I didn’t do enough to help.” She shakes her head. “And for that, I apologize. That is my fault.”

“No, Moira. It’s not your fault at all.”

She won’t look at me. The weird double heart beat inside my chest grows more intense. I can’t stop my impulsive hands from moving to grab her shoulders and spin her towards me. 

Oh my God, she’s really crying. Tears silently fall down her cheekbones. She wipes them with the back of her hand and swears.

“Oh, Moira,” I say, pulling her into my arms. And through her chest I feel her heartbeat is racing too quickly. Impossibly fast. “This is my fault. I was scared and I made a mistake.”

“We both made a mistake, but we’re in it now.” She takes a deep breath to compose herself, flicking away tears like they’re nothing. “Right, ok, so the best way to deal with the change is to sit and let it happen. Try not to resist. Just let it take over. The hands always go first. In the absolute miniscule chance you don’t change, head for the car and leave as fast as you can.” 

She sits down on the dirt floor of the woods. I look around us in a panicky rush. 

“Angela Zeigler. You are not seriously just now considering if people are around?”

“No,” I retort, taking off my bra next. “Just looking.”

I sit down naked in front of her. The dirt feels gritty against my bare ass. I glance at her body and feel my face flush.

“Have you ever changed with another person around?”

“Ana watched once when we were still together.”

“Moira?”

“Yes?” she says, slight aggravation still leaking through her voice. She looks down at me. I sigh.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to apologize enough, but I’m sorry.”

Her eyes soften. “You know, I’ve been saying the same thing for the past week. And every time I try to apologize, you remind me that I don’t need to say sorry.”

“Because it’s true.”

“So, same to you. Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, you sound fine,” I say with a weak smile. She rolls her eyes.

“Forgive me for not sounding more cheery, darling. I’m a bit nervous. But-,”

She buckles over, gripping her head. I reflexively reach out for her, but my own body suddenly feels rocked with an intense, burning, consuming pain. The shockwave of fire that ignites inside my body is so horribly powerful, I can’t hold myself up. I fall, watching the world tilt and watching the spot where Moira sat. 

She’s on the ground too, writhing in pain. And her body. It’s different. She’s changing into something different.

I glance down at my shaking hands. I swear. She was right. 

It looks like I’m changing too.

 

< Monday the 16th, 2 pm >

“That’s what you look like?” I ask, pointing at the video playing on the computer monitor between us. We both sit behind her office desk. The remnants of the take-out lunch we shared sit on the nearby table, but the casual air from before has evaporated. Once lunch was over, she somberly brought out her personal hard-drive. She accessed a very well encrypted set of files in a folder modestly titled “personal research.” She nods. 

“That’s me. Rather awful, isn’t it?” 

“Not too terrible,” I lie. She raises her eyebrows. “Look, Moira. We don’t have to do this now. We went over some of the general things this weekend, but if you don’t feel comfortable sharing all this information, then…”

“We should do this,” she says with a bit more resolve. “I promised you that I would explain everything in greater detail, and you should know what to expect.”

“I feel fine. I promise.”

“Then allow me to do this, at the very least, for my peace of mind,” she says as she scrolls through the video footage. “I’ll feel a bit better if I go over some of the fundamentals. Not to mention, I have no idea what romantic myths and fallacies you probably have heard before. Silver bullets, wolf’s bane, immortality, and all that.”

“Have you really tested those things?”

“Yes, to mixed results.” She casually raises her right arm. “This didn’t used to look so ghastly, but I have had to conduct my own research. And I will admit some parts of this affliction have been interesting to explore.”

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or alarmed.” I pause. “Wait, are you immortal?”

“No, but this condition does seem to slow down aging considerably.” 

Moira opens up another video file. This one is much better quality. 

“This footage was taken last year in my old personal lab,” she explains. “It’s where I used to make the changes each week.”

The camera is looking down on a small, enclosed space. In the middle of the room, there is a creature.

It’s huge. Its large body is much bigger than what I expected. Much bigger than a wolf or a bear. It looks slightly like a mix of the two, though - all toned muscle and dark fur and too many glistening, sharp teeth. I glance over at Moira. There are no similarities at all.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” I joke instead. She barks a laugh. 

“Hilarious.” She leans back in her chair. “It’s almost unfair to say that’s me. Sure, it’s my body, but after the change is complete, it’s as if my mind and personality are completely shut down. I have about as much control as being blackout drunk and about as much humanity as any other wild animal.” She sighs. “The morning after, I can remember bits and pieces, but there isn’t a human thought process going on in there. Just instincts.” 

“That sounds awful.”

“It’s been much better since I figured out a good system. Take the nights off from work. Find a secure location. Change and get it over with. It’s become rather routine. This nighttime animal side of me is always pissed, of course. I’m in a prison of my own making. There’s nothing to do in there, but I can’t go running around the woods like I did when I was a university student.”

“That must have been so scary.”

She shrugs. “It’s better now.”

“How did this even begin? You mentioned it was an accident, but how?”

Moira pulls up some other files. She opens up a large map on the screen, and I scan it quickly.

“This is a map of the forest surrounding my university’s campus,” she says. “This was years ago, when I was a student. I had heard rumors going around about some kind of monster roaming the mountains a few kilometers from the university grounds. Everyone joked about it, but I was foolishly intrigued. I thought it’d be great to get a DNA sample of some kind, even though I doubted it was even real. So, one night, I went off alone to find it.” She rubs her eyes. “God, I was pretentious back then.”

“Was?” I say in jest, poking her shoulder. “You aren’t anymore?” She smirks. 

“Shocking that people around Overwatch say you don’t have a mean bone in your body.”

“I give people what they can handle.” I look back at the map, seeing certain spots marked with red circles. “Are these sightings?”

“Yes, reported sightings were centrally located around one area. That night, I set up camp there, made myself an open target, and got attacked.” Her tone drops off to something more somber. “I never found out where they went, the one who attacked me. I looked for weeks, desperate to find someone else with this affliction, but I never found them.” I look down at her forearm. Her sleeve is rolled up, revealing the scared purple skin. I can’t tell where the mark from the attack starts and where her experimenting ends.

“There used to be a more obvious claw mark, but it’s rather hard to discern now,” she answers as if reading my mind. “In any case, right after the attack, I was too scared to get help. It healed quickly, and I felt oddly fine, so I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want to worry Ana or my family about it, and part of me wanted to keep it to myself. Selfishly thinking about my own research potential. I could tell the morning of the first change, though, that something was clearly wrong with me. I went back out in the woods and experienced the second worst night of my life.”

“The night of the attack being the worst?” I ask her.

“No, last Friday being the worst.”

“Moira.”

She takes a sudden breath when I reach over and hold her hand. She looks off.

“No matter what happens, it’ll be ok,” I say to her. She’s so stubborn. She doesn’t look over or say anything, so I get up and straddle her in the chair. She looks perfectly shocked as I adjust on her lap, and she swears quietly under her breath when I kiss her cheek.

“You deserve better, Angela.”

“Oh, please.” I kiss the other cheek. “Were you expecting me to run from the office screaming after seeing all of this?”

“I hadn’t ruled out that possibility.”

“I didn’t leave after Friday, did I? I said it then, and I’ll say it again.”

 

< Friday the 13th, 7:45pm >

“We are in this together,” I tell her. I usher her to sit down next to me on the hospital chair. She seems so broken, so fragile. 

I still don’t fully understand her reaction, and I don’t understand what exactly happened just minutes ago. The things I saw don’t make sense, but the scratches on my back are patched up fine. In fact, they strangely don’t hurt at all. Moira’s insistence to quickly tend the wounds and draw blood didn’t make any sense, either, but she hasn’t answered my question yet.

“What are you, Moira?” I ask again gently. “Just tell me what’s wrong, tell me what you think I may have contracted, and I’ll believe you.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m having trouble saying this.”

“Would it be easier if I guessed?”

She doesn’t reply, but her eyes still look like they’ll burst with tears at any moment. I hate seeing her this way, and I also hate to prod a delicate wound, but I have to know.

“If you’ve really been a vampire this whole time, I’m going to be furious.”

Seeing her smile warms my heart, even if it is the faintest smile imaginable. “Close.”

“Hm, some kind of David Bowie goblin king?”

She laughs again, more earnestly this time. “That’d be great, but no. Less panache.”

“Hm,” I think, but I’ve been thinking this one possibility for a while now. Saying it out loud feels so odd because it isn’t real. None of this can be real, but I still say it.

“Are you a…are you a werewolf?”

She takes a very long, very deep breath. When she nods, I feel my body go cold and still.

We sit there for a small eternity. I lean my head on her shoulder, letting whatever emotions swelling and brewing inside us run their course. Eventually her arm reaches around and gently touches the bandages on my back.

“There is a strong possibility that I passed it along to you,” she says quietly. “I’ll be blunt, I don’t know for sure. I’ve never had an experience like this before, but the research I’ve done suggests that it may be transferrable this way because I was partially transformed.”

“Only partially, though, so maybe that’s ok?”

“Maybe. I only know that breaking skin while transformed could allow the infectious agent to spread, but I don’t know…I just don’t know.” Her head falls in her hands. I rub her back, holding her close. 

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I don’t feel like a werewolf.”

She shakes her head. “It takes a week for everything to take effect. At least, in my experience. The first change won’t happen for seven days. Tonight, you might experience quite a bit of pain. I wish I could be there with you.”

“Where will you be tonigh- oh.” I bite my lip, staring at her back as it rises and falls in uneasy breaths. “You’ll be, um, changing tonight? Into a wolf?”

“Yes.”

We sit again in silence, but I can feel a very familiar process happening inside me. 

“There are times when I get so scared,” I say to her, rubbing small circles on her back. “Especially out in the field. When I get stressed, I let myself feel as scared as possible for ten seconds. I chase the fear to its edge, I acknowledge it, and then I leave it behind. I won’t lie, Moira. I’m scared. I’m scared because I don’t understand everything. I’m scared because you’re hurt. I’m scared that I’ll lose you somehow, and I’m not ready for that.”

She looks up at me. I get up and kneel in front of her as she sits. I find her hands and hold them in mine.

“But what I do next is I tell myself ‘Ok, there’s the fear.’ And I move on. I find other emotions, like confidence that we can figure it out or happiness that you’re still here, that you won’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t leave you, Angela,” she says.

“Just like I won’t leave you. Is that ok?”

“Of course.”

“And we’ll figure this out together? Promise?”

She squeezes my hands. 

“Yes. I promise.”

 

< Saturday the 21st, 5:30 am >

I wake up, and the first thing I notice is that I’m alone. I stand up, but I immediately feel overwhelmingly nauseous. My knees hit the hard ground. My hands catch me before I completely topple over. 

I feel horrible. I feel scared. I stare at the spinning dirt and roots below my palms as I steadily try to get my bearings and grimly realize I can barely remember anything that just happened and my bare body feels sore all over.

And then, weirdly, I smell a familiar, woodsy scent. I glance up and hear someone moving through the branches towards me, coming down the nearby hill, but I already know who it is.

Moira walks out from behind the trees, completely naked and absolutely covered in dirt and leaves and a myriad of other debris. She looks panic-stricken as she walks up to me, but when I smile up at her, she weakly smiles back. 

“You smell awful,” I attempt to joke. She scoffs and sits down next to me. I appreciate it and I lean against her, because there’s no way I’ll be able to stand again for a few minutes.

“How do you feel?” she asks. One of her arms wraps around my shoulder. I try not to think about why my skin feels sticky with something. 

“Exhausted.”

“That’s normal.”

“Nauseous,” I add. 

“Have you ever eaten venison?”

I wrack my brain trying to think of what that means, and I gag when I realize it. “Deer meat?”

Moira nods behind us. I glance over my shoulder at what remains of a deer, and I feel like puking.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “We did that?”

“A little pack hunting,” she says. “Luckily I don’t remember us getting up to anything worse than that, thank God.”

“You can remember?”

“With practice, you’ll get the hang of putting together the haphazard memories.” She goes quiet. I lean into her even more, absorbing her heat through my skin. I don’t feel quite ready to move, but I do manage to wrap my arms around her and give her a small squeeze.

“We did it,” I say. She laughs softly.

“I’m going to apologize one more time for all of this, Angela. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“No need to apologize. But, I’m so sorry, too.”

She kisses my forehead. “It’s ok. We’re ok.” 

I turn to give her a proper kiss, and it feels just as wonderful as every time before. The strength returns to my limbs slowly. Even though I haven’t fully processed what we just went through, at least she’s here.

When we part, she pushes my hair behind my ears. I take a moment to look all over her bare body.

“We’re a mess,” I say. 

“We’ll find our clothes and cars and get cleaned up soon.”

“Oh, gosh. How will we find our way back?”

She taps my temples lightly. “Some parts of being a werewolf are fun. You’ll get very good at tracking and navigating. I can already tell we didn’t end up too far from where we started.”

“Weird,” I note. She smiles.

She helps guide me up so we’re standing, supporting me with one arm around my shoulders. I step off on my own, still feeling wobbly as I walk. The branches and pine needles hurt the soles of my feet. 

Sensations of running much faster over the underbrush flash in my mind as we walk. As I follow behind her, I remember following behind her last night, too, running fast behind a larger werewolf. Bizarre.

I pause, glancing down at the deer, looking all around the forest, and then at Moira. She stops a few meters away, regarding me with confusion.

“Okay, I feel awful about the deer and I feel like absolute shit now, but…I think wolf-me…,” I pause feeling the oddness of everything settle inside me. “I think wolf-me at least had fun last night.”

She smiles that gut wrenching grin, the one I love that’s filled with wry humor and surprising tenderness.

“I’m glad.”

“Though, you were right. We definitely should’ve gone to your place, Dr. O’Deorain, werewolf expert.”

She barks a laugh. “Well, it’s obvious that we made some mistakes,” Moira says as we stand in the thick forest. I grip my bare arms and shiver in the freezing morning mist.

“Obviously, but I’d at least feel better about everything if we weren’t naked in the woods.”

Moira smiles at me and shakes her head. “You’ll get used to this, Dr. Zeigler.” 

She turns and casually strolls away. I step around the deer lying between us and sigh as I follow her. I run up and grab her hand in mine. 

“You know, you’re always incredibly hot,” I say. 

“The werewolf condition increases average body temperature quite significantly.”

“I meant you’re hot in a very sexy way,” She rolls her eyes. Her face may be covered in dirt and dried blood, but she is definitely blushing. 

I follow her as she leads us through the brightening forest. After a few minutes of walking, we arrive back at our piled up clothes and bags. Only a few meters away, I know our cars sit parked by the edge of the road. 

I gather my clothes, disgusted to put on my sweater over my grimy body. I start with my watch instead, savoring the pleasant coolness of the metal. Moira pulls out some cloths and cleaning supplies from her bag so we can freshen up a bit. She tosses me one of the two large water bottles.

“You came prepared,” I say.

“Lots of practice has taught me what items are necessary, and I packed for both of us. Although, I wasn’t sure if I’d even find you in time. It was dumb luck I managed to spot your car parked out here,” she notes. 

She stands up, looking around the woods and then to me. “However, under normal circumstances, this is a lovely forest for hiking. If you’d like, we can come back here sometime when we’re not creatures of the night.” 

I smile and feel happiness blossom inside me. “Yes, I’d love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love sappy romance and a little supernatural angst. Thanks so much for reading!! 
> 
> Post-credits scene: Angela and Moira sipping mimosas at Moira’s place on Sunday morning while dressed in matching silk robes.


End file.
